


In Your Arms

by ShakespeareFreak



Series: Scream: The Survivor [1]
Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Movie: Scream (1996), Movie: Scream 2 (1997), Movie: Scream 3 (2000), Scream Spoilers, Semi-explicit sex, Sex, Spoilers, Tragedy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakespeareFreak/pseuds/ShakespeareFreak
Summary: Sidney Prescott and Randy Meeks have always been good friends, ever since freshman year at Woodsboro High. It's never really bothered Sid that Randy has a crush on her, but it's not like she's ever felt the same way... until one day, an innocent kiss leads to more, and Sidney realizes her true feelings for her friend. But is it too late?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a very old fanfic, and I've been slowly re-working it for several years now. In its first draft, it was quite sexually explicit, and pretty badly written. That said, it's always been a sort of pet project of mine... I felt that if I could only carefully chip away the unnecessarily sexual bits, dust off the immature writing, and give it a good polish, it would shine like a diamond. (Though if that clunky, clichéd analogy is any indication... maybe not...) Anyway, you'll have to be the judge of how it turns out.
> 
> **SPOILER WARNING:** Contains _major_ Spoilers for the original _Scream_ trilogy!

####  **1997  
** **Windsor College, Ohio**

_Riiiing._

Sidney Prescott started awake. Her large, dark eyes stared fearfully at the telephone on her bedside table, as if its bland white plastic inspired a deep terror in her. It sat there, unassuming.

_Riiiing._

She slid hesitantly out of bed. Her pale face was almost white in the moonlight, in sharp contrast to her short, sleek dark hair, and wide brown eyes. She was quite beautiful—but her face was tight with stress, and those eyes, so dark they were almost black, were haunted: she had seen more horror in the past few years than most see in a lifetime.

_Riiiing. Riiiing._

She reached for the phone tentatively, as if it could be red-hot… then snatched it up before she could change her mind.

"Hello?" she whispered. She tried to conceal the fear in her voice, but a slight hitch betrayed her. She held her breath, waiting to hear _the Voice,_ trying to steel herself for that charming, deadly tone…

"Hi, Sid."

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.  _"Randy!_  You scared me."

She could practically hear the apologetic half-smile on his face. "Yeah, well, I kinda figured calling wasn't the brightest idea, given the murd—given what's been happening."

There was a pause. "Randy—three people were killed because of me. I think I can handle the word 'murder.'"

"Sid…" His voice was gentle, sympathetic, but without the dreaded undercurrent of pity that so many people spoke to her with, the one that made her wince. "No one's dead because of you."

"Oh, yeah?" she muttered bleakly, unable to really believe that.

" _Yeah!_ " he burst out, his voice taking on the distinct tone of the patented Randy Rant. "Look, Sid, they didn't die because of you. They died because of whatever psycho-fucking-Billy-Loomis-wannabe-dipshit is doing this!"

Another pause, longer this time.

Sidney broke the silence. "Randy, why'd you call me at—" she checked the clock "—3:51 am?"

He ignored the question. "So—how's Derek?"

Sidney sighed. "He's fine," she said shortly.

"Oh, well, that's—that's good." There was a funny tone in his voice, one she couldn't quite read. For the first time she wondered if  _Randy_  was the killer, the dark specter haunting her life—but she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered her mind. Randy might be a little strange, and he was  _definitely_  obsessed with movies… but the thought of him actually hurting anyone was ludicrous.

Suddenly, she was frightened by that odd tone, and the lateness of the hour. "Randy—is everything okay? Are you hurt? Do you know who the killer is?"

"No, Sid, I'm fine." There was a strange sort of laughter in his voice, as if the murders were the furthest thing from his mind. "I was just thinking about stuff, and I realized that I really needed to talk to you."

"Tonight? Listen, I can get dressed right now—we can meet at the quad in 10 minutes—"

"Sidney— _do you have a death wish?_  I mean, in practically every horror movie ever made, the innocent girl goes out late at night and gets gutted or stabbed or hacked into a million pieces or something! I mean, what if  _I'm_  the killer?"

"Well, are you?" she asked, only half-teasing.

"The question is—do  _you_  think I am?"

She considered. "No," she answered, realizing once again that that was the truth, "no, I don't. I lo—" She stopped dead, but recovered quickly, barely missing a beat. "—I trust you."

His tone remained unchanged; he'd missed her near-slip. "Good. Then meet me at the Video Hut tomorrow after my shift—y'know, in nice safe daylight, with lots of witnesses?"

"O... okay."

Sidney all but slammed the phone down, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn't believe what she had almost said instead of  _I trust you._

It was impossible. She loved  _Derek._  Randy... Randy was just a friend.

Sidney dismissed the idea and went back to bed, but sleep was slow to come.


	2. Chapter 2

#### 1992  
**Woodsboro, California**

It was her freshman year at Woodsboro High. Sidney was pretty, though she hadn't yet blossomed into the beauty she would become, and though not exactly popular, she was well liked by almost everyone.

She was walking down the hallway to her art class, when a small, pale boy had approached her nervously.

"Um, hi," he said awkwardly.

"Uh, hi?" she returned. She'd seen the boy before in the hallways, but they'd never spoken.

He was in the same year as her, she knew that much, but he  _looked_  at least a year younger. He had light blue eyes that seemed too wide for his thin face. Combined with his slight frame, pale skin, and pointed, elfin ears, the general effect made him seem painfully awkward.

He was silent, looking at her expectantly. She looked around the hallway, hoping for an explanation as to why he was talking to her. No answers there.

"Um… so I'm gonna be late for class pretty soon… I better go…" She moved to go around him.

"Wait!" he piped up, his voice shrill with alarm.

She stopped, looking at him.

"So I was uh, wondering… maybe you'd like to see a movie sometime?" He grinned at her. He was kinda cute when he smiled, but cute like a puppy, not cute like a cute boy. "Have you seen  _Death Becomes Her?_  It has these  _mindblowing_  special effects… there's a scene where Goldie Hawn has a huge hole all the way through her torso, but she's still walking around and talking. I swear, it looks  _real_ … or the other scene where Meryl Streep breaks her neck and her head is twisted all the way around… the really amazing thing is, it's all done with computers…"

Despite the boy's deviation into describing the more graphic scenes of what sounded like a very violent film, Sidney was pretty sure she'd caught the gist: she'd been asked out enough to recognize a date offer when she heard it. She smiled tolerantly, amused. It _was_ sort of adorable to hear this previously silent kid suddenly burst into an impassioned speech about movies and special effects. And it was oddly endearing (if a little morbid) that he chose a movie called  _Death Becomes Her_  to ask a girl to on a date, instead of some romantic film. But…

"I'm sorry, but um… I think I'm gonna be busy that night," she finally cut in, when he stopped to catch a breath. "I have tons of homework due."

"I didn't tell you which night yet."

_Oops._

But he just grinned at her, even if he did look a little crestfallen. "That's okay. I get it." He started to walk away. "See you around, Sidney."

She suddenly realized she didn't know the kid's name, even though he clearly knew hers. "Wait!" He turned, looking like a puppy again, eager for a treat. She felt kind of guilty, having to squash that hopeful look in his eyes. "I don't think we've actually met. What's your name again?"

He adopted a surprisingly accurate James Bond persona. "Meeks, Randy Meeks." The bell rang. "Oops, gotta run!" He raced off.

Over the next few weeks, Sidney bumped into Randy every once in a while. They said "hi," exchanged pleasantries, and went on their way. But she noticed he was always alone. He didn't really seem to have any friends. People mostly just ignored him, not knowing what to think. He wasn't really enough of a "loser" to be picked on, not like the kid in the advanced math class with the sniffle and the thick-rimmed glasses, or the kid who was always popping his zits in class when he thought no one was looking. Randy didn't get shoved in dumpsters or given Swirlies. Sometimes someone would mutter quietly that he was "creepy," but that was about it. His brand of geek was so specific, no one really knew what to make of him.

It was simple: Randy's passion was movies. Old movies; new releases; ones that had won Oscars; ones that were so bad that he liked to say they became good again, just because they were so ridiculous. Ask him any bit of film trivia, he knew it. He could name the first movie ever made ( _Roundhay Garden Scene_ , 1888, though he'd always add, "but that's debatable"); he knew Jack Nicholson's first-ever film role ( _The Cry Baby Killer,_ 1958, " _not_  the old  _Little Shop of Horrors_ like everyone thinks"); he could recite whole scenes from  _The Godfather_ by heart. He especially loved quirky films that made fun of themselves… and scary movies.

He knew them all.  _Halloween, Friday the 13_ _th_ _, A Nightmare on Elm Street…_ but also the more obscure ones:  _The Wizard of Gore, The Driller Killer, Cannibal Hookers._  He gushed over Jamie Lee Curtis; he idolized John Carpenter and Wes Craven. He said he wanted to be a famous director like them someday.

If you gave Randy half the chance, he'd go on and on about movies until you finally walked away. And so it was that more often than not, he'd spend the lunch period sitting alone with his sandwich, paging through a book of concept art from  _Star Wars_ or  _Alien_.

He didn't seem lonely, really… in fact, he seemed quite contented with his film books. But Sidney felt sorry for him.

One day at lunch, Sidney was sitting with her best friend Tatum, Tatum's boyfriend Stu, and Stu's friend Billy, who she'd just met. They were all laughing and joking, having a good time. She happened to glance over, and saw Randy, sitting alone, and buried in a book as usual. "Hang on a second, guys."

Randy was eating an apple, munching away happily, and so engrossed in his book that he didn't even see her approach. She peered over his shoulder. The book was open to a page showing an elf-like creature sitting astride a glowing purple crystal.

"That looks neat," she said, and giggled as he started.

Randy stared at her, wide-eyed at being approached by someone, but quickly recovered. "Yep.  _The World of The Dark Crystal."_  He showed her the cover. It  _did_ look pretty interesting.

"What's  _The Dark Crystal?"_

"You don't know?" He seemed mildly shocked. "It's this film by Jim Henson—you know, the same guy who worked on  _The Muppets_ and  _Labyrinth?"_

"Oh! That's the one with David Bowie, right?"

"Jareth, yeah! Mister Goblin King with a coke problem and hey-look-at-my-package pants!"

_I didn't really mind the pants…_  Sidney thought, blushing. Aloud, she said, "Cool!" She looked down at the book again. "So, would you say this is as good as that one?"

Randy's eyes gleamed. The excitement was clearly written on his face: he was actually being questioned about his favorite topic! By someone who didn't seem bored! "Well, actually, I think it's better. I mean, there's no human actors in this, it's all puppets, but the effects are pret-ty in-cred-i-ble." He said it just like that, emphasizing each syllable.

A thought seemed to strike him, and he flipped the pages until he came to a picture showing another elf creature, this one female. She had long hair so blond it was nearly white, and her huge eyes seemed almost real, though Sidney knew it was a puppet.

Sid ran a finger lightly over the page. "She's lovely."

"Her name's Kira." He looked down at the page, studying the picture. "She can talk to animals, and she has a beautiful singing voice. But she's a fighter, too. She has this sling weapon, and she's deadly accurate with it!" Then he looked up at Sidney, wearing that puppy dog look again. "You kinda remind me of her."

Well, that  _was_ sort of flattering. "Oh, come on, I'm not half that pretty," Sidney laughed.

"Yes you are!" he protested.

"Well, I can't talk to animals—I'm barely passing French! And I can't really sing." She laughed again. "And I'm not exactly a fighter! I'd totally get my ass kicked in a real fight."

He looked at her seriously. "Yes, you are," he told her. "A fighter, I mean. You're strong, I can tell."

What a weird thing to say. "No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are," he insisted. "You're brave, too." He grinned, and his blue eyes sparkled. With those wide eyes and pointed ears, he reminded her a bit of the elf-things in his book. "I mean, here you are talking to the weird kid in the cafeteria. That's pretty brave."

"Randy, you're not weird." Well, he  _was_  kind of strange, actually. But she enjoyed talking to him.

"Yeah, I am." He shrugged, like,  _oh well._  It didn't seem to bother him.

"Really, you're not!" She paused. "Hey, you wanna come sit with us?"

He stared at her in surprise. "Really?" He looked a bit suspicious, like this might be a trick.

Sid smiled. "Really." She led him over to her friends.

She heard Stu groan theatrically and say, far too loudly, "Awww, come on! Does he  _have_ to sit with us?" before Tatum whacked him on the head with a spoon. She was sure Randy heard it, too, but he acted like he hadn't.

Over lunch, Stu made faces and stuck the spoon to his nose like a little kid; Tatum giggled at Stu's jokes and sat on his lap, her breasts rubbing up against her boyfriend's chest through her tight trendy sweater, until a teacher yelled at her to behave herself; Sidney got yogurt on her face and Billy wiped it off with a napkin, and they smiled at one other, the seed of an attraction growing. And in the midst of it all there was Randy: making weird jokes that made everyone laugh, even if no one quite got them; doing imitations of famous movie stars that impressed them all; being peppered with questions about this actor, that movie. No one would have guessed it, but they all just  _fit_  together. The next day, he sat with them again. And the next. Soon, they were inseparable.

Over the next few years, Sidney and Billy started going out. She comforted him when his mother left his father and moved out of town without a word. Stu and Tatum were always on-again, off-again, but they were more  _on_ than  _off._  When tragedy struck, and Sidney's mother was found brutally murdered, the group rallied around her when she went to court as the key witness for the prosecution. Sidney was never quite the same after that, and her relationship with Billy suffered especially, but eventually, bit by bit, she started to heal.

And then, in their senior year, it all fell apart. 

_**.....** _

After the nightmare was over (but of course, it was never really over), Randy and Sid helped each other heal, sharing fond memories of Tatum, avoiding any mention of their friends who had turned out to be killers. And when the time came, they both decided to go to Windsor College in Ohio, clinging together in the tide of life like two survivors of a shipwreck.

Slowly, things began to go back to normal; or at least, their new definition of "normal." Randy excelled in his film class. Sidney was cast as the lead in the school's staging of  _The_   _Oresteia_. After a while, she got a new boyfriend: Derek. For a short time, they could almost believe they were happy.

Then it started again. At the opening screening of  _Stab,_  a movie based on the Woodsboro murders, two audience members were killed by a figure wearing the same ghost mask Billy and Stu had used. Then, another murder, this time a sorority girl on campus. Some evidence pointed to Derek, but nothing concrete.

Sidney, confused and frightened, became wary of Derek. It was too much like Woodsboro; too much like what had happened with Billy. Part of her wanted to trust him… but another part of her was sure that she couldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

#### 1997  
 **Windsor College, Ohio**

Sidney walked into the Video Hut at 5:54 p.m., six minutes before Randy's shift ended, wearing blue jeans and a loose grey sweatshirt with the college's logo on it (one of Derek's). She kept her head down, her dark hair hanging in her face, trying to ignore the silence that descended on the video rental store when she entered, the pointed stares and the whispers that pursued her. Everyone knew that she was somehow at the center of the blood and death.

But gradually, the customers returned to their normal activities. From behind the curtain of her hair, Sid saw that the Horror section of the store was packed with laughing, chattering students, spurred into buying slasher movies by the recent horror in their real lives.

_"Sick, huh?"_  a voice whispered in her ear.

Sidney gasped, and whirled around to see—Randy, astride a cart full of videotapes. He was grinning that odd, sardonic grin of his, made almost Mephistophelian by his goatee; his short reddish hair stuck up in front; his cool, clear blue eyes sparkled in his narrow face.

"Never fails. As soon as somebody gets brutally murdered, perfectly normal, reasonable human beings turn into sick freaks and stampede to the Horror section. I mean, I can practically hear them now: 'MORE GORE! MORE GORE!'" He shrugged. "It's just the way that people work."

Sid smiled in spite of herself. "And how many horror movies have  _you_  rented this week, Mr. Perfectly Normal?" she teased.

"None of your business," he retorted defensively. "And besides, for me, it's a coping mechanism."

An attractive senior girl tapped Randy on the shoulder. "Hey, what else has that hottie from  _Nightmare on Elm Street_  been in?" She tossed her blonde hair casually.

"Johnny Depp. You like him, rent  _Cry-Baby._  Director John Waters," he answered mechanically. "It's sort of a wacky love story, reminiscent of  _Grease_."

"Thanks," she said, and gave him a flirty grin as she walked away. As Randy winked back, Sidney told herself that the unpleasant squirming feeling in her stomach wasn't jealousy.

"Second time today…" he muttered, his voice equal parts annoyance and amusement. He rolled his eyes at Sidney, then flashed her a bright grin.

Suddenly she was amazed by his persistent cheerfulness. "How do you do it, Randy? How do you keep smiling?"

He looked into her eyes, and there was no mistaking the look of plain longing in his face. Sid suddenly suspected what he'd wanted to tell her. Then he looked down quickly, and muttered, "Denial is a wonderful thing, I guess."

Sidney frowned. "Randy—I don't think—"

He was suddenly in a hurry to leave. "Oops! I gotta get these shelved before the store closes! See ya in five!"

And he raced away, nearly bowling her over with the video cart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter is heavily sexual.

#### 1997  
**Windsor College, Ohio**

After Randy got off work and only the employees were left in the store, taking inventory and tallying up sales, he and Sid retired to the privacy of the small back room where the Video Hut kept the adult movies. Sidney ran a hand bemusedly over the tapes, which included titles like  _Sexpocalypse Now_ and  _The Horny Dead._

_"Cockraiser?"_ She raised a skeptical brow, examining one whose tagline proclaimed  **He'll tear your pussy apart!**  in large red lettering. " _The Good, the Bad and the Kinky… A Wet Dream on Elm Street… Mad Maxine Beyond Thunderboner… Arizona Jones and the Temple of Boobs?"_  she read aloud, half-laughing.

Randy didn't crack a smile. For once, he was totally serious.

Sidney frowned slightly. She didn't like where this was headed. Randy was easily her closest friend nowadays, and she didn't want to hurt him. "Okay, what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked. "Because if it's about what I think it is, I—"

Randy held up a hand:  _stop._  "Look, it doesn't matter. Just—let me say it, please?"

Sidney hesitated, then sighed softly, relenting. "Okay, Randy."

"Sid, these murders have got me thinking about my own mortality. What if I die tomorrow?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he overrode her. "Any one of us could be next, and you know it." A small pause. "And… if I  _do_  die, I don't want to die a coward too chickenshit to admit to the woman he loves that he's crazy about her."

"Oh, Randy—" Sid began, but he cut her off.

"Please, Sid, just let me finish!" His voice was loud, urgent. He stopped, took a breath, and continued in a calmer tone: "Look, it's just… this is hard enough, okay?"

Sidney nodded gently.

He took a deep breath. "I love you, Sidney Prescott. You know how I can keep smiling? The answer is  _you,_  Sid. I can smile through all of this craziness because you're my friend, and when we're just laughing and talking and—you know, bullshitting, talking about movies or whatever—I'm having the time of my life. And—and I know you don't feel the same way, but I had to say it. Out loud. Just once." A pause. "Okay, I'm done."

Sidney looked at him. That was the longest she'd ever heard Randy go without referencing some film or other. Somehow, that made his short speech seem much more meaningful. "Randy… I'm sorry. I don't love you. Look, you're a great friend, but that's all you are to me. I love  _Derek_ ," she said, not sure she really believed that last part. "I really hope you can understand."

He nodded: he clearly had been expecting that answer. "I understand, Sid."

"I'm glad." She opened the door to leave, then paused, her hand on the knob, and closed it again. She turned and looked thoughtfully at him. Randy waited, his face quizzical. Sidney walked over to him, smiling slightly, and leaned close. As his eyes widened, she kissed him softly on the lips.

It was meant as nothing more than a sort of consolation prize, given because Randy was a sweet guy and a good friend. But as he reciprocated with tender affection, Sidney's body realized what her mind had not, and she pressed against him passionately. Randy's blue eyes widened even more in surprise and wonder, but as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he ceased to resist. Soon, his body responded to her—the soft feel of her breasts, her warm breath in his mouth—and she felt something hard pressing against her through the fabric of his pants.

Randy broke the embrace. He looked down at his erection, flushing. "Sorry…" he muttered.

Sidney, surprising herself, pulled him to her again. "Don't be."

They kissed, long and full of the released tension of the years they'd been holding in their emotions and desires. Then Sid pulled back gently, and slipped off her sweatshirt, revealing her simple white bra. Randy gaped. She smiled at him, and unhooked her bra.

Her breasts were pale and lightly dusted with freckles. He stared, unable to help himself. The expression on his face was suddenly very young—like a kid allowed to run free in the biggest candy store in the world. That analogy popped into Sid's head, and she laughed tenderly.

He looked up at her face, confused. "What?"

"Nothing," she replied, and kissed him again.

He removed his shirt, awkwardly, and Sidney was amazed at how hard his slim form was under it. She saw the deep scar on his right shoulder, and ran a finger over it gently.

"Yeah," he said, "that was from when—you know—when Billy—"

_A gunshot echoed through the air, and Randy was blown back by the force of the bullet. Billy smiled, a twisted grin…_

Sid wrenched herself out of her dark memories to see him looking at her slightly apologetically, clearly regretting bringing it up. "It's ok," she said quietly. "I'm just glad  _you're_  ok."

They embraced again. When they finally pulled away from one another, Randy tried to unzip his pants, but his hands were shaking so badly that he could hardly manage it. Sidney knelt, took the zipper from his trembling hands, and did it for him. He clumsily pushed the pants down, then his boxers.

It was Sidney's turn to gape. "Oh my god…"

"What?" he asked anxiously, those elfin ears turning bright red. "Oh no, it's small, I knew it—"

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's so  _big…"_  she said huskily, and brushed his astonished lips with her own.

Randy took off her jeans with a gentle firmness she would have never guessed of him. Then he slipped her panties down, revealing the small dark strip of hair beneath. Sidney was astonished by the quiet way he took control. He moved his mouth all over her body, softly biting her neck, kissing her stomach, licking her all over, until she felt she must explode from pure desire. Then, just as she thought she couldn't take it any more, he lowered his mouth below her waist and began to lick her  _there._

_"Oh GOD!"_  she screamed. Before long she felt Something building up inside her, growing until she couldn't see, couldn't think. Suddenly, her mind was exploding, and some dam she hadn't known was there simultaneously broke inside her, and her passion spilled out in a torrent.

She stumbled back, half-falling, and he reached out to steady her. He grinned. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow," she answered weakly.

Randy must have seen how tired she looked. "Are we, um—are we done here?"

Sid looked at his sweet, concerned face, and her feelings washed over her again in a hot wave. "Not yet," she said, and pulled him toward her. "Now it's time for the final reel."

He snorted. "Bad movie joke," he told her. "Really weak." He raised his eyebrows.

She grinned at him and tossed her brown hair around her pale shoulders. "You are such a geek."

As they kissed again, Randy gently rubbed her bare shoulders, and then moved his hands slowly, sensually, down to her breasts and caressed them, ever so softly.

Their lust had abated somewhat, and now they were moving almost in slow motion, savouring every sweet moment. She brushed her lips against his cheekbone, as softly as a moth's wings. He ran one hand through her dark hair. And then he entered her.

Sidney let out a harsh gasp. Her world went black for a moment with mingled pain and heat. Randy saw her grimace and stopped at once, letting her get used to it.

When she relaxed around him, he began to move, slowly at first, careful not to hurt her. She gripped his shoulders hard, first in pain, then in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back as he began to move quicker; he clenched her ass with both hands; their breathing quickened as they moved together rhythmically.

Sidney was dimly aware that she was crying out wordlessly, over and over. Randy panted with exertion, his breath coming in short, high gasps that Sidney somehow found incredibly hot. They bumped awkwardly into a shelf, bringing a few loose videotapes tumbling down with a loud crash. The impact threw her off-balance, and they fell themselves, tangled together. Randy's elbow hit her hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of her with a small  _"oof!"_  She was dimly aware that there would probably be a bruise there tomorrow. The same part of her mind noted detachedly that she'd knocked the back of her head against the shelf, and that the Video Hut's coarse carpet, which was definitely not made for what they were doing, had scraped against her bare, exposed skin in places, leaving it tender and tingling. She found she didn't care, and apparently Randy wasn't deterred by their rough landing either, because they barely paused.

In the back of her mind, the little part that wasn't thrilling with deep joy and physicality and movement, Sidney found herself thinking with wonder:  _This is_  Randy.  _I'm having sex with_  Randy. And she realized with something like astonishment that, though she would never have expected it, this was what she'd really wanted all along.

They rolled over and she looked up at him, his lips half-parted in his pale face; that funny little shock of hair still sticking up in the front; his ice-blue eyes, so full of depth and emotion. A look of delighted shock was etched onto his features, and in those eyes she saw her own face reflected back at her, wearing the same expression. She realized that now her cries had words to them: she was screaming his name, over and over and over.

And then she lost awareness of everything as something deep within her burst, and she began to cry, not from grief or pain, but from pure and perfect bliss. Randy saw her tears and paused, concerned, but she immediately screamed  _"Oh dear god don't stop!"_

Sidney had no idea how long it went on—to her it was an eternity. All she knew was the feel of his warm skin rubbing against hers, his hot breath on her neck, the tears of pleasure burning tracks down her cheeks. And through the tears, splintered into a thousand glistening prisms, she saw his eyes, cool and blue and beautiful as a glacier in the Antarctic.

Then she felt the Something building up inside her again, and screamed, louder and louder, her hands gripping his shoulders tighter and tighter, and—

And then it was over, and he rolled off her. They lay tangled up in each other's arms, sweaty, drained, and satisfied, basking in the warm vestiges of their lovemaking. They were silent for a long while, each thinking their own thoughts.

Randy was the first to speak. "I think I have rug burn." Sid chuckled weakly, then fell silent again. He glanced over at her. "Penny for your thoughts."

She looked away. "Randy… I—I haven't really felt safe in a long time. Not since my mom died." He listened quietly, with complete attention. "And after Woodsboro…" She sniffled violently, trying to stifle the screams suddenly echoing in her mind. He squeezed her shoulder, and the screams faded. They weren't gone, not entirely, but they seemed further away. She smiled gratefully at him. "But… right now, I feel completely safe. I… I feel like I could be safe forever, as long as I'm in your arms."

She sat up and pulled away from him, suddenly terrified he was going to be ripped from her side as they all were.  _I'm like a disease,_  she thought.  _A deadly, contagious infection._  New tears formed in her eyes—tears of sorrow this time, and fear, and hopelessness.

He sat up, too, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Hey, Sid—I'm not going anywhere."

"But—but everything I touch turns to shit! Everyone I've ever cared for gets hurt!" she choked, unable to hold back her fear.

"Sid." His voice was gentle, but firm. He pressed his hand to her face, gently turning it towards him. "Sidney, I'm not going to let that happen. I promise." There was a pause. "I love you, Sidney."

She hadn't known it—really  _known_ —until she found herself saying it aloud. But as she heard her own words in her ears, she knew, with utter certainty, that they were true. "Randy, I—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had far too much fun thinking up the porno titles used in the early part of this chapter. For the record, I didn't know it when I was originally writing this, but two of them are the titles of real adult films (albeit neither of them existed in 1997, when this story is set): _A Wet Dream on Elm Street_ (2011) and _Cockraiser_ (2017). Additionally, my title for the _Mad Max_ porn ended up being quite close to the actual _Beyond Thunderdome_ XXX parody, _Mad Jack Beyond Thunderbone_ (1986). I guess all the really good sex puns are already taken.


	5. Chapter 5

#### 2000  
**A Remote Part of California**

"—I love you too."

Sidney awoke in her bedroom, startled by the sound of her own voice in the dark. She opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where she was. And then she remembered.

It was just a dream. None of it had ever happened: the late-night phone call, the porno section of the Video Hut, their shared kiss or the intimacy that followed it.

But one thing  _was_ real: she had loved Randy Meeks. She just hadn't realized it until now. And now it was far too late.

A few days after she'd started to distance herself from Derek, Randy had been murdered. Her friends who'd found the body had tried to spare her the details, but she'd pushed them until she'd heard every word: the shattered window of the news van, the blood seeping out onto the pavement, those ice-blue eyes frozen open and spattered with tiny droplets of red. He was gone.

So much for becoming a famous director.

_It shouldn't have been Randy. It should've been me…_

Derek was gone, too. The new Ghostface, once again someone Sidney had called a friend, had shot him in the heart.

By now, Sidney had lived through three appearances of the masked killer; the tattered robe and ghastly white mask had pursued her through the years like the Shadow of Death. The last time had ended only a week or so before.

Randy had been right, all those years ago: Sidney was a fighter. She'd clawed and punched and kicked, and she'd survived.

But now, Sidney realized that there were some things she couldn't fight.

She began to cry. She could almost feel Randy's presence there in the darkness, and it filled her not with comfort, but with pain. She sobbed helplessly, hopelessly.

As she wept, her hand crept up her necklace, softly touching Derek's Greek Letters. She remembered the day he'd given them to her: he'd really made a fool of himself, singing "I Think I Love You" loudly and joyously to her in front of the whole cafeteria. At the end of the song, he'd kissed her and presented her with the necklace. It had been such a silly, sweet thing to do.

Derek's last words had been a confirmation of his love to her. In the weeks following his death, she'd found that she couldn't bear to take the letters off… every time she tried, she'd see him standing on the cafeteria table, singing, a big grin on his face… and that would turn into the image of his corpse, the still-warm blood dripping from his chest.

Sidney grasped the necklace in her dark bedroom, clinging to it. She remained that way for a long time, shaking with silent sobs.

Then, moving very slowly, like an old woman, she unclasped the chain, and allowed it to slide from her hand and drop to the floor. She knew now who she had really loved—now that it no longer mattered.

She cried for reasons she didn't entirely understand: guilt for taking off Derek's token of love; self-loathing for never realizing the truth about her feelings for Randy. Her tears finally fell for everyone she had lost, everyone she had been too busy being a survivor to mourn. And of course, she cried for the old deep wound of Randy's death, and the fresh new one of her epiphany.

The phone began to ring.

Sidney curled up in a ball of misery and did not answer. She wept, listening to the mocking sound of the phone go on and on in the darkness.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the "it was all a dream" ending is a really tired trope. Like I said in my notes at the beginning, this story was originally conceived over a decade ago, when I was a lot younger and more inexperienced at writing (and at sex, which is why my original version was an utter cringefest for me to re-read nowadays). Anyways, there are two reasons I kept this story and tried to salvage it, instead of simply trashing it. One is simply because, no matter how cringy the first version was, I felt it had some moments and emotions that were really beautiful, and those were worth the effort of saving. I hope you all feel that way, too.
> 
> The other reason is because this story serves as a pretty solid prequel to another _Scream_ fic I've written since, "Luck." I'm going to upload that story directly after this one, so it'll probably be available by the time you read this. I think that ending is satisfying enough to make up for this one. I hope you check it out!


End file.
